August 11, 2019
Its been a few years since I looked at this blog. A lot of life has happened. I am now the lone survivor of my original family, and survivor of breast cancer. Cancer seems to have gripped my family. I lost my mother to cancer, lost my sister to cancer, lost my dad to cancer and most recently lost my daughter to cancer.
I've had joyful intervening events of now, five grandchildren, reconnecting with childhood friends and retirement. There are stories I could relate to each of those topics.
But the one most on my mind is losing my daughter, June 20, 2019. She was 41 years old with an adoring husband and 2 boys, ages 5 and 11. Her husband is an angel/saint of a human being, father and husband. The fact that he respects my involved role as mother-in-law and grandmother is a saving grace as we grapple with our "new normal".
But on with my feelings about my daughter's demise. There will always be an empty hole in my heart for her. Always. It is made less raw by the fact that her husband allows my free involvement with him and the boys.
My grief for my daughter is compounded by not being able to share things that made us laugh, catching her saying the same thing at the same time, watching her live in a quiet, intelligent manner. Enjoying food together. She taught me to be more conscious of environmental issues, of being more open minded. She and her hubby are raising their sons to love first and be loved in return. I miss her popping over for lunch from work (small town). I miss her Presence.
My worrying nature asks the questions that cannot be answered. Supposedly no BRCA connection to all this cancer. Then WTH?
Why has all my family been ripped from me by Cancer? It is an epidemic for sure. Why did I survive and not my family members?
Why was she taken from her family? (Of course, a myriad of people all over the world asks this question when any catastrophe happens and removes a loved one!) Why me/them? Why not me/them? My religious beliefs offer some answers as to the "why" of it all. And that gives me hope. But it still HURTS!
It seems our lives are all about stumbling forward. Upright one minute and catching ourselves from falling, the next. Sometimes we do fall, shattered and have to pick up the pieces to remake ourselves. I always think of a brooch a friend gave me once that was made of broken china pieces. The poem that came with it talked about that very thing: making ourselves over into something more lovely. I can only hope and pray that whatever I'm being made into will be a blessing to my dear son, my grandchildren, son-in-law, daughter-in-law and other family, as well as friends.
I have to make special effort to climb out of the lethargy of grief. I look for moments of joy and hope. That's what I have left. And my memories of the same.
